


Hallowed Be These Frozen Fields

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Coldatom Week 2016 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: BUT REALLY BARE HINTS, Dragons, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing is the bestest thing ever, Leonard Snart Needs a Ray of Sunshine, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Past Child Abuse, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Day 1: Soulmate AU]</p>
<p>kickingshoes said: Everyone has a dragon in their soul and only the dragon recognizes the soulmate when they meet. Len thinks since he's so cold inside his dragon is dead (he hasn't felt them stir in years), but after having to spend time with Ray on the Waverider (whose dragon insists they're soulmates) he can feel something start to move in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallowed Be These Frozen Fields

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do something entirely different. Then I got that gorgeous prompt.
> 
> Because why just leave it at soulmates when you can have DRAGONS AND SOULMATES
> 
> Title taken from Starlight by The Wailin' Jennys

Fittingly, Leonard Snart fights his way into the world. All throughout his mother’s pregnancy she was told that her baby would not survive, that there was something wrong with him, that she should consider—

But Sierra Baxter had looked them right in the eyes and said, “When my son is old enough, he’ll kick you in the balls.”

Both of them nearly die in the process. Both of them fight to breathe.

“Stay with me, baby,” she’d whispered to him, “you stay with me, now.”

He remembers every hitch in her words, every desperate gasp, because his dragon remembers. She’s told him the story many times.

Sierra’s dragon helps her survive just as Leo’s helps him. Fittingly, Sierra and Leonard’s souls do not go down without a fight.

* * *

There are countless textbooks and articles theorizing about the dragons, but only the barest facts are known for certain: everyone is born with them curled around their soul. They’re not just a creature who crawled inside, then; they’re a manifestation of that person, or so people say.

Leo’s favorite legend as a kid was the one that depicted everyone being born as dragons first. When their original bodies died, they followed their souls into new ones. That tale made him feel like something special, even after constantly being told he wasn’t.

What people really fixate on, however, is that their dragons can sense their other half. _Soulmates_ , they’re called. Apparently a dragon will shift and pull inside a person’s chest when they sense them, letting their human know that that special someone is near.

How very romantic.

Although it should be said that most bonds are not romantic at all—not in the traditional sense, anyway. Platonic bonds are far more common and enjoyed. That’s why, when Lisa’s born, Leo is genuinely surprised that his dragon doesn’t so much as give more than a delighted hum at her new sibling residing in his baby sister’s chest.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

* * *

Sierra loses her dragon when she finds out about Lisa.

You can lose them. Nobody talks about it, of course, but you can. Your dragon will never, ever leave you voluntarily, so they have to be forced out or killed.

Lewis kills Sierra’s Malcolm in cold blood. Neither Malcolm nor Sierra are particularly surprised at Lisa’s existence; in fact, they take her in as one of their own, for which Leo is over the moon excited. But when Malcolm emerges from Sierra’s chest to welcome this new addition, Lewis shoots him right in the eye.

He honestly thought that Malcolm was going to kill Lisa. According to him, “A second kid’s too useful.”

Sierra screams. Leo’s dragon curls around his own soul, instinctively prompting him to hug himself and cry. Lisa cries too.

Malcolm disappears, but his blood remains. Ochre spreads across the hardwood floor, brown as Sierra’s skin.

Leo finishes scrubbing it for her when she gets sick. He promises himself, Lisa, and her that he’ll take care of his sister when Sierra takes her last breaths.

“And you,” she whispers, “you take care of yourself too, baby.”

Before Leo can say anything, she’s gone.

He finally names his dragon in a fit of sobs.

“How does Sierra sound to you, baby?”

(He tries to say it like his mother would. Doesn’t do her justice at all.)

* * *

When Leo is eight, Lisa only one, Sierra’s finally mature enough to emerge. Not for long—she’s not old enough for _that_ yet—but she wants to see Leo with her own eyes, and Leo wants to see her more than he can say.

She is so, so beautiful.

Her scales look like they’re made from diamonds, reflecting the light until she’s a brand new star. Her wings are still growing, attached to her body on thin spines, webbing a glittering sapphire blue. She doesn’t have horns, but a fur ruff, white as snow, that’s infinitely soft to touch. There aren’t any hindlegs either, and her forelegs are terribly small, but that doesn’t stop her from slithering around or supporting herself in an upright ‘S’ shape.

Her voice is soft velvet: “Hello, Leo.”

She cups his face in her silver talons, her eyes the same shade as his.

Overwhelmed, Leo cries and throws his arms around her. They’re roughly the same height, but Leo knows he’ll still love hugging her even when she towers over him.

He can only choke out a lame, “Hi.” She croons, delighted all the same.

Leo falls asleep curled in a ball, as if he can hug her while she’s back inside. In return, he feels a reassuring presence press against his chest.

* * *

Sierra disappears when Leo is thirteen.

Lisa, seven years old, has bruises now. That doesn’t make Sierra go, though, just makes her and Leo fight that much harder.

No. No, it’s what Lewis does to _him_ that forces her away.

If Lisa’s bruises are to heal without any fresh ones, Leo has to do what his father says. He’s gone on plenty of jobs before, learned how to disable security systems, the ever-present clock in his head serving as a timer for the rest of the crew, stuff like that. At first, that’s what Lewis tells him it is: a job.

Then he’s presented to one of his dad’s friends. Sierra roars in his chest, roars until—until—

Lewis orders, harsh and hot in his ear, “Get him to pay up or your sister’s gonna learn what a knife feels like.”

It’s slow. It’s agonizingly slow. Everything drains from Leo’s chest. Sierra is silenced, her noises and wriggling fading into nothing.

Cold is left in her wake. Empty, empty cold.

Leo lets his dad’s friend do whatever he wants.

* * *

Len—not Leo, _never again_ —is fourteen and ready to die.

That doesn’t mean he can, though. Lisa and her wonderful gold King need him. So when the kids jump him, he uses the cold inside to fight.

One of them has a shiv. He decides he should feel relieved.

Then a big kid, ‘bout sixteen, storms in and kicks their asses. Len watches, impassive.

When the big kid snarls the small crowd away, he turns and thrusts out his hand. “Mick Rory.”

Len blinks. Shakes it. “Leonard Snart. Why did you do that?”

Mick winces and says, “Well geez Snart—‘cause you feel so empty.”

Slowly, Len brings a hand to rub against his chest. The warmth from Mick seeps through his clothes.

“Figure you could use someone,” Mick tells him, “you stick with me, alright?”

Turns out it wasn’t just he who wanted to help Len. Since no one else wants an empty one in their presence, it’s easy for them to get transferred to the same cell. And that night, Mick’s Duke appears. Unlike adult prisons, juvie has cells big enough for kids’ dragons to manifest; they hope that’ll help ‘em get back on track.

She’s somethin’ else, Duke. Just a couple years shy of full maturity, she has to curl into herself to fit into the tight squeeze of their cell. She looks like a cross between a phoenix and a dragon, covered in rough orange feathers instead of scales, with a T-Rex face and webbed wings. Two bull horns protrude from her head, short forelegs barely long enough to reach more than a couple feet in front of her but hindlegs thick and meaty.

What fascinates Len the most is the fact that she doesn’t have just one tail, but five. They trail behind her like feathery coattails but can bend and flex just like any other dragon’s, with charred charcoal markings swirling in indistinguishable patterns. She contorts herself so he can touch.

When she speaks, her deep tones sound like a chronic smoker’s rasp. “What was her name?”

Len feels something for the first time in over a year. It’s a howling in his chest, nothing at all like Sierra’s roars, and it _hurts_.

His voice shrinks to a feeble whisper. “Sierra.”

Cautiously, Duke bends down as best she can. When Len doesn’t move away, she brushes her snout against his tiny body.

Being touched by Mick’s heated dragon punches more out of Len: “I used to call her baby. My mom…she always talked like that. Called me baby. I named Sierra after her.” Mick slowly approaches. “She was…she was so beautiful. Shined brighter than a star.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t cry or nothin’. Mick wraps an arm around his shoulders anyway.

Duke tells him, “We won’t do you the injustice of saying we’re sorry or give you comforting words.”

Mick adds, “But we can stick around.”

Len doesn’t know what to make of them. Still doesn’t, really.

* * *

It soon becomes apparent that Mick and Duke are far from that level of calm on the regular. Fire is what they are, what they have, what they love. Just ‘cause Len’s cold presence is with them now don’t mean that flame is extinguished.

Len can at least subdue it sometimes. All the while, he knows that one day they’re gonna be consumed by their flames.

He holds fast to them. Thinks, _you want them, you’ll have to break my hands_.

When Mick finally kisses him, he swears there’s something like a stirring in his chest.

They make him feel, both of them. There ain’t no way he’s giving them up without a fight.

* * *

Like a coward, Len gives them up anyway.

* * *

There’s another stirring when he meets the Flash. He knows by now, though, that it’s just his heart racing.

The cold gun feels right in his hands. If he really tries, he can fire it and pretend he’s looking at Sierra under a bright summer sun.

But the color’s all wrong, and Sierra never burned his eyes with her glare.

“Captain Cold,” Cisco Ramon calls him.

Len wants to laugh away the bitter taste in his mouth. _Captain Cold_. How very apt.

* * *

Mick gives him warmth again. It’s not enough, never was, but Len relishes in it all the same.

They stay best friends. Unsurprisingly, Mick refuses to go further.

Duke nuzzles him and calls him a fool. Also unsurprising.

This time, Len straps his hands down and holds on tight.

* * *

Lewis. His dad. He’s back.

Of course he is. Not even prison can keep him from destroying his children, let alone snatching a few diamonds.

He sneers at Len, “Thought you’d want in on this job, Leo. I’m taking diamonds.”

Len catches his meaning. The bomb in Lisa’s neck is the only thing that stops him from tearing the bastard’s limbs, icing them, and shattering them against his fucking head. He settles for imagining it, the cold sharpening into a feral, jagged fractal.

The crew takes a step away from him. Lewis twitches.

_Good_ , Len’s thoughts snarl, _next time I’ll have you on your knees._

* * *

He does. The cold suffuses him as he stares down at the corpse of his father. Lewis’ dragon, unnamed, barely put up a fight.

That’s what captures Len’s attention: her corpse coiled around Lewis. She’s got bloody tears in her leathery hide, sickly green blood still sluggishly dripping from them; her face is distorted, a mess of scar tissue that didn’t heal right. Her jaw, unhinged, reveals a missing tongue. Her wings have gaping holes in their webbing, her talons are sheared. She’s nothing but a diseased lump of gray flesh.

Len caused none of those injuries or scars. Lewis had.

Maybe that’s why she just rolled over and accepted her death. Maybe that’s why her expression is fixed in quiet relief.

Freedom feels as empty as Len’s chest.

“Lisa was safe,” Barry says, “why did you do that?”

“He broke my sister’s heart. Only fair I break his.”

Barry keeps casting furtive glances at Lewis’ dragon. Len says nothing about her.

But of course Barry’s Nora, a scarlet raptor-like beast with no wings and just as much speed as him, trots over and brushes her snout over her deceased fellow, trilling all the while.

Len ignores the pitying look sent his way.

* * *

He reunites with Mick and wishes Lisa would stick around. But while the siblings love each other, it’s hard staying with an empty one.

Her leaving pushes Len to finally ask the question: “How are you here?”

Mick doesn’t even look up from the bike he’s tinkering with when he replies, “System’s got plenty of empties, Snart.”

“So does our system,” Len argues. It’s led to one of the biggest stereotypes about criminals: they’re heartless, _empty_ people who should never be trusted.

( _“I’m a criminal…and I hurt people.”_ )

Mick hums, “Yeah, well, I got used to it.”

“No,” Len practically snaps, shoving himself from their moth-eaten couch to stand over him, “you don’t even twitch. Nobody just _gets used to it_ , Mick. So what’s the deal?”

“Why do you wanna know so bad, Snart?”

“ _Mick_.”

With a grumble, Mick abandons his task to stand and look him in the eye.

“You don’t feel empty to me,” he says. Len nearly rears back. “Not really. Like…” he rubs the back of his neck, “aw hell, Lenny, I dunno. You know I’m not good with this stuff. Y’just—you feel _weird_ , yeah, like there’s somethin’ missing, somethin’ important, but you don’t feel empty.”

Len…Len can’t breathe.

* * *

Time travel. Space ship. Saving the world.

Len won’t lie; it’s everything he’s ever dreamed about as a kid. He often whispered to Sierra that they’d go to the moon someday, told her she’d really be a star then, up there in space. They talked about it for hours.

Barry had said to him, “There’s good in you, Snart.”

Mick had said, “You don’t feel empty.”

Yes. Yes, Len is going. He convinces his one shred of warmth to come with him.

* * *

When Leonard Snart meets Raymond Palmer, something _moves_.

He’s not the only one. Behind him, Mick’s carrying Jax, and he’s got this _look_ on his face that leaves no room for doubt. Kendra and Carter have already bonded.

Waverider’s gonna be one giant clusterfuck.

Except…except Len doesn’t _have_ a dragon anymore. He doesn’t need false hope as surely as he doesn’t need another bright-eyed nerdy puppy in his life. Because that is what Raymond is: open, annoyingly optimistic, terribly intelligent, and carrying his own bag of daddy issues.

Yet when he sees Len—no. It’s impossible.

Len is empty.

He has to be.

* * *

Mick is Chronos.

Mick is Chronos, and he makes Len shatter one of his hands.

Doesn’t mean Len won’t use the other one to keep his hold. He won’t abandon him again, he can’t do it.

Mick beats him to a pulp. Duke is snarling in his chest; Len can hear her. Problem is, he doesn’t know who she’s snarling at, him or Mick. Maybe both?

Whatever the case may be, the urge to kill Len is dampened when Mick realizes he can’t abandon Len either.

Now that he knows it’s safe, Len sends Jax into Mick’s cell. Just to be safe, he keeps an eye on them.

Jax cautiously enters. Mick shoots to his feet, something unreadable but very much _Mick Rory_ in his face.

After a beat of tense silence, he rasps, “Hey, kid.”

Jax’s mouth quirks. “Hey, Rory.” After another beat, “Time Masters really fucked you up, huh?”

Mick’s throat bobs. “Yeah.”

“Snart says you got somethin’ to tell the team. Wanna get outta here and tell ‘em yourself?”

As soon as the news of Hunters is given, Mick orders Rip to land somewhere open and safe. Duke’s practically thrumming under his skin; they want to fly with their soulmate.

Jax’s Rosa is as brown as him ( _as Len’s mother, as Malcolm’s blood_ ) with hot streaks of red darting all around her scales, tail, and wings. Her snout is dusted black, along with her talons and single rhinoceros horn. Spikes adorn her tail, ending at a spearhead point.

As soon as Rip takes them to Salvation’s pocket of time, Rosa manifests and stretches like a cat. Duke practically pounces on her.

While the two roll around and kick up dust in a heap of happy trills and growls, Jax pulls Mick in for a tight hug.

“Missed you, man,” he says.

Mick takes fistfuls of his jacket and keeps quiet.

They fly together. Rosa’s definitely faster, but she gladly keeps to Duke’s pace. Their platonic bond burns bright in each of their eyes.

Len carefully keeps his eyes from straying to Ray. False hope is the worst kind.

* * *

Len knows right off the bat that Jonah Hex is Rip’s soulmate. The way they talk, dance around each other, avoid skin on skin contact—Len doesn’t need to see their dragons to know. He suspects the team doesn’t either.

“I can’t imagine fighting a bond like that,” Kendra murmurs.

“Yeah,” Ray says, “me neither.”

There’s something hard in his voice. Len’s eyes remain averted.

* * *

He positions himself on a roof and protects Ray. Of course he does.

Why is that so obvious to him?

* * *

He’s not empty.

_He’s not fucking empty._

When the Pilgrim strikes Ray, Sierra _shoves_.

Len staggers under the shock, barely catching himself in time before his feet scramble after Rip.

“Mr. Snart, what are you doing?!” the Captain snaps, and for the life of him, Len doesn’t know.

Sierra, though. She does.

She emerges, and it’s agony in its purest form. Len’s nose squirts blood; his throat tears itself apart screaming. But she fights her way into the physical world.

The Pilgrim’s power over time doesn’t extend to dragons who manifest in time. Sierra keeps swiping her talons across the woman’s body until the bitch is finally still. Even then, the dragon keeps going.

Len, dazed and on his back, can only stare.

She’s changed, his Sierra.

Every inch of her is covered with scars. What were once shimmering scales are now dull, unpolished lumps. Her wings never grew, unable to support her now bony, malnourished form. Her roars sound like the pitiful groans of a dying woman.

Yet when she, covered in the Pilgrim’s blood, checks on Ray’s unconscious body, it is with the delicate, tender movements.

Len forces himself onto his hands and knees. Rip, shell-shocked, can only stand there in stunned astonishment as Cold, sobbing, throws himself at Sierra with an anguished cry.

Man and dragon tumble to the floor. Rip is forced to call Mick to them.

“ _Shit_ ,” Mick mutters when he sees, “Lenny… _shit_.”

* * *

Sierra never left. Len had shoved her into the depths of his soul.

“You didn’t mean to,” she rushes to assure him, “you were trying to protect me.”

Her voice is a weak croak. Len wants to rip himself apart for it.

“No, Len,” she whispers, cradling his face like she used to, “no. If anyone is at fault, it is that wretched beast you called father.”

Sierra needs to rest soon after this. Len hisses as she returns to him; it feels like she’s rubbing sandpaper against an old wound.

Gideon explains, “In suppressing your dragon, Mr. Snart, you have caused damage to your soul. With time, this damage can be repaired.”

“How soon?” Len asks.

“Should you contact your mate, the process will be cut to approximately one month.”

Of-fucking-course.

Len jolts. _Of fucking course._

Raymond.

* * *

Atom’s scales look like spikes.

Her hide is primarily black with splotches of red along her chest, talons, tail, and the back of her head. Her great wings readily open to include Len, Ray already lounging on the other. The Waverider was built to include dragons; she is quite comfortable lying on her side, despite the pins and needles she’s bound to get after squashing her wing.

Ray’s eyes widen when he sees Len. In an instant he’s on his feet and demanding to know if he’s okay.

Len rubs his chest and says, “She was dormant. ‘Cause of me.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Ray insists, “you’re not the nicest guy around, but you’re not heartless.”

Len’s mouth quirks. “Some would beg to differ.”

“Well they’re wrong. Is she alright?”

Len turns to Atom instead. “You name her after your suit, Raymond?” he teases.

Ray’s obviously frustrated by the subject change, but there’s definite pride in his voice when he answers, “Actually, I named the suit after her. When I read about atoms in school, she loved the name so much I just had to give it to her.”

“Sierra breathes ice. Can she shrink?”

Ray grins, “Yep! It’s amazing!”

With a snort, Atom drawls, “Much as I enjoy hearing you talk as if I do not understand, I would like to know the condition of my own mate.”

And _there’s_ the big dragon in the room.

When Len chances to look at Ray, he finds a bitten lip and hesitant face.

Ray murmurs, “I…I thought you were just ignoring us. Atom knew something wasn’t right, but we assumed that was down to your rejection.”

Len supposes this is one of those rare moments for candor. “There was a movement,” he confesses, “but not enough. I didn’t know, Raymond.”

“Can’t you call me Ray?”

Len smirks, “No.”

They lie side by side for a while. It soothes Sierra.

Eventually, Len wakes to find himself tucked under Ray’s chin, half on his body. He makes to move—

“Stay,” Atom commands. “I’ll not let your stubbornness take her from me now.”

Len’s about to say he wasn’t going to leave entirely, but Atom’s eyes are as sharp as her scales.

It’s hard to see her as Ray’s soul. But then, Len supposes Sierra doesn’t look like she belongs to him either.

* * *

When Sierra pools enough strength to manifest again, Ray holds Len through it. Len can’t stop himself from moaning under the piercing ache despite Sierra’s every attempt to minimize it.

Len slumps against Ray’s chest, panting heavily, as Sierra is cocooned in Atom’s wings. The spikes have dulled, tickling instead of harming, and they smooth out Sierra’s own scales.

Ray cups Len’s cheek, trying to get a look at his face. Len’s eyes are glazed over with residual pain, but he’s still able to grit his teeth and snap, “I’m fine, Boy Scout.”

Ray smiles and says, “ _Eagle_ Scout.”

Len scoffs. Some of Sierra’s scars fade.

* * *

Stein takes one look at Sierra and cries, “What did you _do_ to her?”

Kendra’s got a hand over her own chest; even Sara crosses her arms protectively around herself.

“Hey!” Mick snaps, “It ain’t his fault!”

Len opens his mouth to differ, but Sierra beats him to it. She forces herself to rise from his lap and hiss at Stein, “I would refrain from speaking of matters you do not understand, _doctor_.”

Ray brushes away another scar like it’s nothing. He gently guides her head back to Len’s lap.

Surprisingly, Rip speaks in Len’s defense too. “We are capable of a great many things to protect our dragons, Dr. Stein. Even if such actions do more harm than good.”

He’s undoubtedly speaking of his separating from Hex. It’s enough to push Stein into apologizing for making an incorrect assumption.

Len strokes Sierra’s head with a bitter smile. “Admitting you’re wrong, professor? That musta hurt.”

Stein sends him a withering glare while Jax smiles. And when Jax smiles, Mick no longer gives the old man daggers.

Everybody wins.

Len glances at Rip. Well, almost everybody.

* * *

Sierra is restored.

Her wings will never fully grow, but she’s Len’s shining girl again. He has Gideon modify his phone so he can send a picture of her to Lisa.

His sister replies with a simple _Oh Lenny._ He grins.

Ray sees that smile and can’t help asking, “Can I kiss you?”

To his infinite surprise, Len yanks him in by his collar. Ray manages to slow it down to a savoring kind of kiss. It’s wetted with Len’s flicking tongue and vibrating with their pleased hums. The dull pounding that’s become a constant when Sierra emerges softens into a whisper before disappearing completely.

Their bond is warm. Len rubs circles in Ray’s hips with his thumbs and savors.

He feels…he _feels_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
